Carry On
by Marka.Carbondale
Summary: There comes a moment when Kurt realizes that he has passed "buzzed" and fallen head-first into "drunk" because he is on his feet and leaning against Blaine as his boyfriend is freaking out about something that apparently requires his participation. Klaine


_Carry On_

_ —xx—_

Blaine has this awful habit of getting drunk too quickly and then serenading those around him. He is never out of key and always much too loud, and his audience generally laughs and cheers him on, thus encouraging him further. Generally, Kurt plays "designated driver" and rarely drinks as to keep an eye on his obnoxious, yet adorable boyfriend. However, since they moved to New York, public transportation has enabled Kurt to abandon his need to be responsible, and he'll admit to getting tipsy a couple of nights, maybe even full-blown drunk once or twice.

As the couple head out that night, Kurt is aware that Blaine has already taken shots with Rachel, who's accompanying them this evening. Finn, Santana, and, for some reason beyond Kurt, Jesse St. James are trailing behind them. Blaine and Rachel, trying their best not stumble on Kurt's left, are buzzing with both the excitement of being reunited after many weeks and the Patron that Blaine decided to waste too much money on tonight. Kurt could remember a time in his life where these two drunk together would annoy and possibly even trouble him, but it seems so distant and foreign compared to the broad smile their behavior is putting on his face.

Kurt knows this route almost too well. Since their arrival in the city six months ago, they had been frequenters of one—and only one—bar. Whether it was out of laziness, convenience, or comfort, Kurt doesn't know, but they had found the small, nondescript building, often mostly empty, and never strayed. At this point, the group feels no need for maps or directions from their respective iPhones, and Kurt hardly pays any attention as he walks the well known path, taking turns without thought nor pause in his conversations.

"Blaine is _selling out_, Kurt!" Rachel blurts, effectively grabbing his attention. "Becoming a _history_ teacher? I would have expected much better things for you, Blaine, as a fellow lead!"

Kurt chuckles, watching as Blaine frowns at him for support. "_Music_ history, Rachel dear. I think it's admirable—he's going to pass on all of his vast knowledge about Pink and Katy Perry to hungry, young minds."

Blaine, whose eyes are already rimming red, juts out his bottom lip. "That's not nice."

"Oh, please, honey." Kurt musses his boyfriend's hair and grins. "You know I'm joking."

As they push into the bar, the thick smell of smoke and warm air feels strangely like home. Kurt shrugs off his coat and leads the group to their usual table, wedged in the back. Brittany and Sam are seated, holding their table. Brittany has a tall, skinny glass that has been half drained of what appears to be a Long Island Iced Tea, and her flushed cheeks are proof enough that she's been consuming it alone. Santana quickly slides in next to her and pulls the drink away from her, murmuring something that sounds like, "that's enough."

Sam grins at the arrival of his friends and group takes their seats, but eyes Jesse with confusion similar to Kurt's when he takes his seat. Only when Rachel scoots next to him, making sure their shoulders touch, do the two seem to understand. When he pulls up a chair with Blaine, he leans in. "Did you know about that?" He nods his head in Jesse and Rachel's direction.

Blaine shrugs nonchalantly, "Knew about her and Finn. I had no idea Jesse was back in New York, though."

Blaine seems to have decided that it's none of his business, but Kurt knows that he will be giving Rachel a stern talking to. Tomorrow. Meanwhile, Finn has hailed the waitress, ordering them a pitcher of Miller Lite. She takes the rest of their orders and then walks away. The group grins at each other.

"She's never gonna card us," Sam chuckles, "cuz she knows she's gonna get a huge tip."

"Don't jinx it!" Rachel announces a little too loudly, "We'll have to find a new place if you do."

Jesse smiles at her in a way that Kurt can't remember him looking at _anything_, and adds, "although, _I_ am twenty-one."

"Well, isn't that just good for you," Blaine blurts, then instantly becomes interested in something across the room.

Kurt quirks an eyebrow at him, but is distracted when their drinks arrive. When a glass similar to Brittany's filled with a pink and yellow drink is placed in front of him, the boy debates his decision to start with tequila. However, he remembers that he needn't be sober this evening, as Blaine's and his apartment are only a short walk away. He sucks down a quarter of the tequila sunrise.

He says nothing when Blaine orders a round of shots for them. He's not entirely sure where the money for this evening is coming from, but he has a hunch that his mom recently sent him a sizeable amount of "apology money" again. They frequency with which Blaine fights with his mother about his living arrangements with Kurt almost makes the boy want to move out and find his own place. Almost.

The shots arrive, filled with a clear liquid that Blaine did not disclose to them, but Kurt shrugs and deems it acceptable because it's Saturday and who cares if he's nursing a hangover tomorrow morning, because he'll be doing it with Blaine.

He throws the shot back, gulping it down with a shudder when he discovers it a little stronger than he'd anticipated. Arching an eyebrow at his boyfriend, Blaine grins lopsidedly. He's already drunk.

"What did I just ingest," he hiccups, then flushes, "dearest boyfriend of mine?"

Blain leans forward and grasps a glass brimming with foamy beer and announces, "151! Thought that might be a good place to start."

"Bacardi?" Sam asks from across the table, filling a glass with beer. "Dammit you're classing it up in here, Blaine."

The curly-headed boy next to Kurt laughs a little too loud at this and then leans back. Rachel then delves into a tale about the basement theatre club at Jesse's school and how _organic it is _and that all the players there are _just so different, Kurt_, and Kurt worries that New York and Jesse are turning her into a hipster. He makes a mental note to add that to the growing list of things they're going to discuss. Tomorrow.

There comes a moment when Kurt realizes that he has passed "buzzed" and fallen head-first into "drunk", because he is on his feet and leaning against Blaine as his boyfriend is freaking out about something that apparently requires his participation. Blaine turns around to the bartender, nearly falling the process, and shouts something almost indecipherable, and then suddenly the music is twice as loud and Kurt knows that it's not a night of drinking if Blaine doesn't have something to sing. It's a song they all know, only because Blaine has forced them all to listen to it when _Some Nights_ came out. The tune is well under way, so Blaine quickly downs the rest of his fragrant drank and slams it on the table so that he can start singing. Kurt grins lopsidedly at his boyfriend, who is making him waver on his feet with his arm slung around his shoulder. Despite his high blood-alcohol level, Blaine still manages to sing along gorgeously and fudge very few lyrics.

Kurt knows this song well and as Blaine sings—"_So, I met up with some friends at the edge of the night/At a bar off 75"_—and points at his friends in the booth, he recalls how his boyfriend so enjoys serenading him with this particular tune. Occasionally, when Blaine wakes before him, he sings it into his ear until he awakens. It's one of the finer points of having a live-in boyfriend who also happens to be a vocal major; waking to his beautiful tenor far outweighs the screeching of his alarm. He's smiling next to Blaine as he remembers it.

Their friends, fully used to Blaine's impromptu performances, seem to be wholly enjoying his performance, clapping along and smiling like the group of intoxicated college students they all are. Blaine's smile falters a bit as he begins the next lyric, hardly enough to be seen.

"_And I'd like to think_

_I can cheat it all_

_To make up for the times_

_I've been cheated on."_

It goes mostly unnoticed, but Kurt can't help but see that he is singing with his eyes directly locked on Jesse's. He knows of his brief involvement with Jesse and how it ended, and between that and his previous relationship with Rachel, he has more reasons to hate the St. James boy than he can count on each of their sets of hands. Feeling an overwhelming need to protect Blaine rush over him, he tightens the arm he has slung around his shoulder and pulls him closer. Blaine leans into his boyfriend's chest and lets out a carefree, drunken laugh before continuing on with the chorus. He raises his arms, almost as if he intends to conduct, to signal his friends—they know what comes next; Blaine expects them to join in.

"_When you're lost and alone_

_and you're sinking like a stone"_

Conducting his friends, they all join in with the name of the song, "_Carry On!"_

Blaine has, by this point, freed himself of Kurt's arm and is climbing on the bar. Kurt would worry that he will never outgrow his need to climb on furniture if it wasn't so adorable, and if he didn't already know that telling him to stop would only encourage him further. Once he has found his footing, Blaine continues with even more vigor.

"_May your past be the sound_

_Of your feet upon the ground"_

Once again, the group choruses aptly, and Kurt is beaming when Blaine signals for him to join him. Flushing, the boy shakes his head in refusal, but strides across the bar the moment he notices him start to pout. With a grin, Blaine continues.

"_My head is on fire_

_But my legs are fine_

_Cause after all they mine"_

Blaine startles Kurt by leaping off the bar, bracing his fall by grasping Kurt's shoulders. Scolding him silently with a wide-eyed look, Kurt knows that if he were anything but drunk, he would be full on shouting at his boyfriend for performing such an idiotic stunt while intoxicated. However, the liquor in his system manages to calm his anger and he relocates his lopsided smile as Blaine resumes the bridge, his arm secured around Kurt's waist.

"_Lay your clothes down on the floor"_

Kurt leans in and surprises Blaine by beating him to the next line, and they finish bridge, somehow managing to harmonize. Kurt blames it on all those years of Glee Club and their spontaneous, yet elaborate, impromptu performances.

"_Close the door_

_Hold the phone_

_Show me how_

_No one's ever gonna stop us now!"_

Kurt seeks out his revenge for Blaine jumping from the bar by planting a sloppy, ostentatious kiss on his lips. He is more than aware that his boyfriend is still not quite used to the way New York is more accepting of two men displaying their affection publically, and he can feel his victory as Blaine freezes against his mouth. However, the alcohol allows him to recover promptly and suddenly his mouth is open against him, and the two are redefining "drunken making out." Their friends respond with their share of obnoxious hollering, egging them on with their various whistles and shouting. Kurt clutches his boyfriend and relishes in the fact that not one person in the bar is scoffing them or yelling obscenities; in fact, a few of the other patrons are even joining in with the encouragement. It's hard not to smile into this kiss; downright impossible when he realizes that Blaine is smiling, too.

The song is long forgotten until the two realize that their friends are sloppily singing the chorus again. Blaine pushes out of the kiss and blushes, though his eyes still linger suggestively on Kurt's. He knows he will never tire of that look in Blaine's eyes, that there won't be a time when his stomach doesn't flip flop and his heart pound when his brain understands the implications behind such a gaze. He's not even sure if Blaine knows that he does it, eyes staring deep into Kurt's, and then falling to loiter on his lips before giving him a once-over—one that becomes more or less obvious depending on the amount of liquor he's consumed. Kurt stares after his boyfriend as he stumbles over to the table and finishes the song with his friend, staying behind and observing with a small smile.

It's hard to imagine what a perfect life should be like, but Kurt assumes that this is about as close as it gets.

—xx—

When the bar closes and they find themselves standing outside, huddled in a group against the bitter cold, Kurt mentally thanks the universe that his apartment is so close. The idea of trying to catch a cab or, god forbid, maneuver the subway right now with his vision fuzzy around the edges and pointless giggle dribbling out of his mouth sounds positively terrifying; and if his own drunkenness wasn't enough, Blaine being glued to his side, breathing hot air on his neck and shamelessly whispering dirty promises for when they arrive home in his ear make him want to distance them as far from other people as possible.

Present company exchanges slurred and hurried goodbyes and promises of a repeat of the night before parting in their separate directions. Kurt and Blaine barely make it around the corner before the former finds himself pressed tight against a freezing brick wall, Blaine's lips on his neck and body pushed seductively against his own. He gulps and squeezes his eyes shut as he feels Blaine swell in his jeans against his own growing need, groaning aloud when his boyfriend rolls his hips into Kurt's. Blaine merely chuckles, murmuring against his neck, "th-this is what you get for ash-shaulting me with that kish in th-there, _darling_." His breathes out the last word and Kurt could swear that "darling" is code for "I'm going to suck your cock right here against this brick wall." Kurt is fully prepared to let him, but a brisk January wind whips them both in the face and the two shiver. Blaine grabs his lapel and grins, "let'sh g-go home."

Kurt suddenly forgets it's winter when the last word sends a surge of warmth through his body, "home" meaning so much more than just a too small, too expensive, and often too cold apartment; it means that there's a person there that loves him and whom he loves back. He knows Blaine understands this, and so he smiles and nods.

Blaine tucks himself under Kurt's arm and slings his own around his waist, finding familiarity in the comfort as they share their warmth. Each has a broad, lopsided smile stretched across their faces. Moments like this make everything worth it; the locker shoves, the name-calling, the bullying. They've found love and acceptance and safety in each other, in their friends, in a city that they've left their shitty hometown behind for. Kurt knows that he got much too drunk tonight and tomorrow he'll be paying for it, but for all of those things and being here with Blaine, he can't be bothered to give a damn. So what if he's stumbling home at three in the morning through the icy streets of New York? He's young and happy and he has a boyfriend who is grinning and tripping along next to him; a boyfriend who will be sharing a cup of coffee and a pounding hangover tomorrow morning while they lie together in bed and waste the day away; a boyfriend who makes all the naysayers and the homophobic assholes seem utterly insignificant.

As if sensing his train of thought, Blaine drunkenly slurs, "Fuck th-those guysh who b-beat me up in the eighth g-grade." He chuckles and smiles, "They're pr-probably shad and a-alone, and I'm gonna be m-making love with the most shexiest guy in the w-world tonight."

Kurt laughs aloud and nods, pushing the door to their warm building open with grateful sigh. Perhaps the sentiment wasn't as eloquent as a sober Kurt would have preferred, but he agrees heartily.

Fuck 'em.

—xx—

_Procrasti-writing. I have a midterm tomorrow, but Klaine._

_Maria_


End file.
